


icarus

by hiyodayo



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alt/Johnny and Kerry/Johnny are in the past, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, F/M, M/M, and a few others mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiyodayo/pseuds/hiyodayo
Summary: Five times Kerry had trouble distinguishing the lines between hate and love, and the one time he didn’t.-He hated cliché, cheesy metaphors, he really did. But sometimes he felt like Icarus, flying way too close to the sun. Sure, it had its highs and shit, of course it did. He wouldn’t have stayed if it didn’t. There was something bright, like a supernova, about Johnny.V is the same, but different.
Relationships: Alt Cunningham/Johnny Silverhand, Kerry Eurodyne/Johnny Silverhand, Kerry Eurodyne/Male V
Comments: 37
Kudos: 259





	icarus

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! Haven't written in a while, but this is my angsty self-indulgent fic of a return :'-)) I'm thinking of doing a Kerry/V multichap fic, hopefully taking place after that epilogue, because JESUS IT WAS DEPRESSING LOL  
> Anyway--this mostly follows the timeline of established Cyberpunk 2077 in game canon, but with a few touches of difference. I wanted to write a study on one of uh...Johnny's MANY old toxic relationships. Ends with a happy/hopeful ending with V!

_Five times Kerry had trouble distinguishing the lines between hate and love, and the one time he didn’t._

* * *

**1.**

Smoke pillowed out of his lips and into the dim neon lighting of the room. The wisps curled lazily in the air, blending with the darkness as they disappeared towards the ceiling.

“What crawled up _your_ ass and died?”

_Subtle._

Kerry looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch. Johnny towered over him, lit cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth. The faint glow at the end reflected off of the dark, red-tinted shades over his eyes. Aviators indoors, of fucking course.

Looking like an absolute asshole--but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Just another Tuesday for Johnny Silverhand.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, running a hand through his dark hair as he turned away from his friend.

_Friends? Were they still that? Half the time he could barely tell._

But that was Johnny. Hot, then cold. It was part of who he was. Volatile, terrifying, charismatic, a thorn in Kerry’s side and his inspiration all at once.

“Right.” Johnny scoffed, unceremoniously jabbing his boot into the couch where Kerry’s legs were. Kerry rolled his eyes, but lifted his feet off the scuffed material. The other Rockerboy immediately collapsed onto the seat, slinging his silver hand across the back. “That’s why you’ve been uptight this whole fuckin’ evening, even more so than usual.” He paused, giving Kerry a searching look, somehow managing to make it mocking even with his sunglasses on. “Gotta give you props, Ker. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“Ah, shut the fuck up.” He was used to this banter between the two of them, laced with animosity that didn’t quite reach either of their eyes. This was normal. This was something he was used to. “What about you then? Rare to not see you off with some new Joytoy.”

There was a dry huff of laughter. The aviators finally came off, mirth glinting in Johnny’s brown eyes. “Coming from you?”

“Touché.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, occasionally taking drags from their cigarettes.

Samurai may never be popular, or mainstream, or sell out venues, but Kerry sort of enjoyed the ragtag rock band he and Johnny had put together. Makin’ music, screaming into microphones about stickin’ it to the corpos, not a care in the world when on the stage together. Samurai against the world. No label, just them, playing at dingy bars, random clubs, and doing whatever the fuck they wanted. Besides...

He sighed, sitting up and leaning forward, fingers gingerly plucking the cigarette from his mouth and grinding it out in the glass ashtray on the table. He hated cliché, cheesy metaphors, he really did. But sometimes he felt like Icarus, flying way too close to the sun. Sure, it had its highs and shit, of course it did. He wouldn’t have stayed if it didn’t. There was something bright, like a supernova, about Johnny. It made you want to be near him, if only just to bathe in that intensity for a moment.

But just like that dumbass Icarus (seriously, wings cobbled together from wax? What a gonk)…

_Well_.

“Seriously, man. You doin’ okay?”

Kerry glanced at Johnny, whose closed-off expression (was it ever open?) showed the briefest flicker of concern. He huffed a small chuckle, reaching for the closest glass of whatever-the-fuck. It was moments like these that were the worst. “Mhm. Just dandy.”

_Get too close, and you’ll only end up burned._

A long pause.

“...Wait, those are my jeans, asshole.”

A ghost of a smile lit up Kerry’s lips. “What, you gonna rip ’em off me?”

Johnny snorted good-naturedly, grounding out his own cigarette and standing. “Keep dreamin’.”

Kerry waved him off, and Johnny disappeared towards the bar, probably looking for his next exciting hookup. Normally, Kerry would be too.

_...Hah._

For once, he didn’t feel like fucking the next attractive guy that walked by.

There was something about Johnny’s last joke that hit a little too close to home.

* * *

**2.**

“C’mon, asshole, let’s go.”

Ah yes. Nothing like waking up to your supposed best friend kicking your door in. “What?” Kerry grumbled, pawing around blindly for his phone. “What the fuck time is it?”

“Time to get your ass in gear.” The sound of boots stomping around his apartment filled Kerry’s ears. The blinds were drawn up without mercy, streaks of morning light (what the fuck? Since when did Johnny get up before noon?) hitting Kerry’s eyes, searing them.

“The fuck!?”

“Sorry, Kerry's newest input.” He didn't sound that apologetic. The nameless man in his bed was unceremoniously pushed off the bed as Johnny vaulted over and tossed the clothes on the floor at Kerry. “Big day. Important shit to get done. You can suck each other’s dicks later.”

Clearly, this was enough for the nameless man to shoot them both dirty looks before gathering his clothes, throwing them on, and slamming the door to the apartment behind him as he left.

Well then.

“Won’t be happening, apparently. Thanks for that, by the way.” Kerry grabbed the torn jeans that Johnny had whipped at his face. “The fuck are we doing? Last I checked, we don’t have gigs this early in the day.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Big day.” There was an uncharacteristically happy smirk on Johnny’s face, something that immediately rang alarm bells. What the hell was going on? “You didn’t get the text from Universal?”

“Too busy.” Kerry gestured towards the door.

“Kerry Eurodyne, manwhore extraordinaire.”

“You flatter me.”

“Mm. Blistering Love got onto the EuroRadio charts.”

A pause. Johnny’s smirk only got wider and more amused as Kerry seemed to short out for a moment at the sudden change in topic. “ _What!?”_

“Yeah,” the other Rockerboy drawled, slipping on his aviators. “But if you would rather go chase after your little hook up…”

“You kiddin’ me? This is preem!” Kerry leapt out of bed, forgetting his jeans were only half on. He yelped, legs tangling in the material as he flailed for balance, arm hitting something on the way down to the unforgivingly cold and hard ground.

There was a grunt underneath him as he got his bearings.

His elbow was currently digging into Johnny’s stomach from the awkward angle they landed at. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

“You might be into some fucked up pain kinks, but that ain’t me.”

Kerry rolled his eyes, shifting his arm out of the way. “Oh, am I hurting your delicate sensitive spirit, Silverhand?”

Johnny’s eyes glittered, his aviators having been knocked off during the accident. He was in a much more playful mood than his usual gritty self, and Kerry had a feeling it was from the high of their first ever big success as a band. He understood--the adrenaline from the news was still pumping through him, making him feel on top of the world. They grinned at each other like idiots. “Maybe. What, you gonna kiss it better?”

In an impressive (or idiotic) flash of bravery, Kerry leaned down and pressed his lips against Johnny’s, hard.

It was chaste, for the most part, though a flash of heat ran through Kerry's skin anyway. Fuck.

When he pulled away, he half expected Johnny to be absolutely disgusted and shove him off. _Shit, did he just ruin Samurai right after their first big break?_

He even had a brief crazy thought of Johnny just straight up shooting him.

But nothing prepared Kerry for brown eyes piercing into his before being yanked down for another kiss that was…significantly less chaste than the last one.

"You're straight," was the first thing he said when they came up for air.

"Whatever," was the hoarse reply before Johnny pulled him back down, long fingers tangling in his hair. "We're celebratin', right? Don't go turning into someone _responsible_ on me now, Ker." 

It made no fucking sense, that logic, but for once--that piercing gaze was focused on him, _seeing_ him, like there was something that made Kerry special.

Like he was standing evenly, on the same ground, instead of drowning in the shadows of a man who didn't even know (or care) about his own effect on his supposed best friend.

_Fuck, he was going to regret this later._

"Yeah," Kerry said breathlessly, feeling both grateful and sick at the small satisfied smile playing on Johnny's lips (that one he knew well. The one that always showed up whenever Johnny got what he wanted). "Yeah, we're celebrating."

* * *

**3.**

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Johnny?”

“You gonna let me in or not?”

Kerry groaned. It was 4 am. While he was used to late nights, especially with their kind of lifestyle, anyone would get sick of dealing with an injured Silverhand in the middle of the night after it happened for the nineteenth (and counting) time. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know where my first aid crap is.”

Johnny pushed past him without a second word, making a beeline towards the bathroom, dripping blood all over Kerry’s doorway and hall.

_Spectacular. Fuckin’ great. Just nova._

“Your place is still a fuckin’ dump, I see,” Johnny called, scratchy and rough voice muffled by the walls between them. “Never did like organizing.”

“Yeah, well. Still coulda done without the blood on the ground.” Kerry slumped against the wall and scrubbed a hand roughly across his eyes. Shit, he was tired of dealing with this. Still, he never said no.

_Hah. Wonder what that said about him._

“I thought you’d like it.” A teasing lilt entered Johnny’s drawl, his head poking out from the doorway of the washroom. His trademark smirk curved the corner of his lips. “Pop of colour for this dull place of yours.”

“Mm.” The unamused look Kerry shot him only made Johnny’s smirk grow wider. “So, what kind of fight did the legendary Johnny Silverhand, enemy of all corpos, get himself into this time?”

Johnny’s eyebrow ticked up before he turned, going back to fixing himself up in the mirror (no doubt getting more blood all over Kerry’s sink). “What made you think _I_ started it?”

A sigh. Kerry lifted himself from his slump against the wall, crossing his arms. “Because I _know_ you, Johnny.”

A long silence. Kerry wondered idly if Johnny finally kicked the bucket, but alas, luck was not on his side. Stubborn son of a bitch. He’d probably find a way to come back to life even if he _did_ somehow die early.

“Fine. It was some fuckin’ Arasaka lackey. Got real offended when I made an offhand comment about the size of his dick. I’m assuming he was overcompensating for something considering the size of the gun he tried to pull out on me.”

“Hilarious,” Kerry returned flatly, nudging his way past Johnny into the washroom and sitting down on the edge of the tub. “And? How’d you get that injury?”

“Bullet grazed me. I’m fine.”

Ire rose in him. Maybe it was the late hour, or the increasing number of fights he’d seen Johnny get into with corpos lately. Fights that went far beyond their music, far beyond using hoarse lyrics and guitar riffs to communicate their message. But either way, Kerry found himself standing up and grabbing Johnny’s uninjured shoulder (that goddamned silver one that gave him his name, he hated it, he loved it, he didn't fucking know anymore) in a strong grip that surprised even himself. “Yeah? What about the next fight? You gonna be fine then, too? Gonna come in, bleedin’ all over my floor, disturbing my sleep?”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed dangerously, something he always did whenever people started talking in circles. “Ker--”

“Or am I gonna hear about your strewn out corpse in the streets one day?”

The tension in the room was thick. It wasn’t as though Kerry hadn’t had thoughts like this before--nightmares that one day the shadows cast over him by Johnny would be gone, lost with the dirt and grime of Night City. It wasn’t some kind of epiphany that made him realize he cared about Johnny after all. It was never a fucking secret, and it sure as hell shouldn’t be a surprise.

Except to Johnny Silverhand, apparently it was.

“The fuck, Eurodyne?” Johnny sneered. _Eurodyne._ It was either Kerry, or Ker. Eurodyne only came out when he was feeling particularly spiteful, and Kerry felt some sort of sick sense of pride in the fact that he didn’t flinch back at Johnny’s tone. The bar was _that_ low on their friendship, evidently. “Since when did you become my mother? You don’t get a say in how I live my life.”

Kerry took a breath. God, he wanted to sleep. Forever, maybe. Or scream. Or punch Johnny in the dick. “Johnny, you’re not...I-- _we_ \--got your back, y’know. Samurai, I mean. Nance, Denny, Henry--”

A bark of laughter interrupted him. “Oh yeah? Whaddaya wanna hear, huh?” The dim light overhead the sink flickered as Johnny slammed a hand down on the metal. “That I shouldn’t live my life the way _I_ want because I got people caring about me?” Another sneer. “’Cause I got _you_ caring about me? And in return, if I give any fucks at all, I shouldn’t be ‘reckless’?”

_That stung more than he thought it would._

Kerry’s throat tightened, his tone immediately defensive. “That’s not--”

A silver hand stopped his words, gripping his jaw. Kerry felt his back hit the tiles of the wall. A bruising kiss, forceful and biting, all consuming as Johnny was. “You think I don’t see the fuckin’ way you look at me sometimes? Like I’m this thing you’re infatuated with but too scared to get close to? It's the same goddamn thing. Outta all of us, only I got the guts to _actually_ stand up to Arasaka.” There was alcohol on Johnny’s breath, nothing unusual. But the wild look in his eyes that had been building the past few months in his endless tirade against Arasaka was.

The supernova was burning. Kerry was terrified of the day it would turn everything around it into nothing but scattered ashes, destined to fade into the fog of Night City's sky.

He said nothing.

“You’re a fuckin’ coward.” Johnny yanked his hand away, turning back to the sink, expression shuttered and angry. "Whatever. I'll get out of your hair."

The clatter of scissors in the sink. Angry footsteps.

The door slammed closed, leaving Kerry to the silence of his apartment.

His head leaned back, hitting the tiles with a thunk. God, he was sinking into the shadows again. The brighter Johnny shined, the more dangerously he burnt, the more the shadows clutched at Kerry, strangling him until he couldn't breathe.

He loved him. He hated him. 

Kerry always thought he would be able to separate the two. That idiotic saying about there being a fine line between love and hate always made him roll his eyes.

In the face of Johnny, it was getting harder and harder to distinguish the storm of emotions.

Wanting to be touched by the sun's lustre, and not caring about the flames, like a warning, licking at his skin.

Maybe he could relate to the dumb kid with the wings made out of wax after all.

* * *

**4.**

Her name was Alt Cunningham. She was a talented netrunner (yes, Kerry stalked her online--not one of his proudest moments, he'd admit), one of the best in Night City, a genius who burned nearly as bright as Johnny did.

He didn't have any kinda clue how they'd met. But she was gorgeous, cybernetic enhancements clean and calculated. It was almost funny how her hand matched Johnny’s. She was funny, snarky, crazy intelligent. Hard not to be attracted to her.

And it seemed like Johnny…really _looked_ at her. Not just as his output or whatever.

Kind of like that day, so long ago--

_Two years? Three? Five?_

\--in Kerry's apartment, both high off of Samurai's very first success.

He wondered if she noticed--that very specific gaze, that look of acknowledgement.

_Fucked up. Years and years, still searching for that gaze, as if it could give him some kind of closure. Equals but not really. Idolizing, envying, hating, loving, respecting…_

Johnny's actions towards Arasaka had gotten worse lately, as if trying to provoke them into attacking him on purpose. Actively trying to start some kind of war he most definitely would not be able to finish.

He'd stopped asking Johnny to talk about it after he'd brushed him off to fuck around with Alt for the fifth time.

Speaking of…

"Hey, you okay?" Alt's slightly raspy voice greeted him as she sat down. "You look worried."

"Yeah." Kerry's answer came out tighter than he would've liked, but Alt didn't react. They had just finished another gig, all of them resting backstage. Johnny had gone off to who knows where, probably to piss off yet another Arasaka corpo.

Samurai had been…on the rocks lately. Johnny's irate attitude and reckless actions were putting everyone on edge. Nancy had her own shit going on that she refused to talk about. Kerry was…well. He was starting to wonder if this was the right place for him at all. He'd never really pictured himself without Samurai, without Johnny by his side, but…

"I know the feeling," Alt said suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" he replied, brow furrowing.

"Johnny. His actions." Her hands tightened on the edge of the speaker she was sitting on. "I don't think he really understands what he's doing to the people around him."

"Thought you guys were getting along swimmingly." Okay, so he sounded a little bitter. Sue him.

To Alt's credit, she didn't look surprised or even a little offended. It was like she expected the response, and honestly, that irked Kerry. He didn't like being read. "It's a bit more complicated under the surface." She shifted. "There are certain…things going on. Powerful people starting to make moves, grasping for more control. None of us are invincible."

Kerry nodded slowly, not understanding where she was trying to go with this. "Right," he said, dragging out the word incredulously. "Ain't you his output? Thought you'd be okay with all of his whack."

Alt scoffed. "Kerry, you know better than anyone that Johnny can't keep his dick in his pants. Being his output doesn't mean much nowadays."

He didn't reply. Alt took that as her cue to continue.

"My point is…Johnny's volatile. I love him, of course." Either she didn't see Kerry's flinch, or she mercifully ignored it. "But he flies off the handle, and he thinks he's invincible. He feels invincible, but all it is…it's recklessness that he thinks is bravery and courage and righteousness." Her expression hardened. "Sometimes I hate him for that. That inconsideration for any kind of contingency. But…I also love that about him, that willingness to go all in." The corner of her lips curled up in a small, humourless smile. "We'll destroy each other, you know."

Maybe she did understand after all.

"He burns bright," Kerry said after a moment of silence. He took a drag of his cigarette, and offered it to her when she held her hand out. The end glowed eerily underneath the dark shadows sweeping across the backstage area. "Not sure if I can follow him anymore, where he's goin'. Not even sure if I'm willing to try."

"Mhm." Wisps of smoke curled out of her mouth as Alt exhaled. "I'm going to...end it with him after the next gig. This can't keep going on." She pinned Kerry with a look that seemed to go right through him. "You should set your boundaries too. With him. Samurai."

"Boundaries?" he echoed. 

Alt took another drag. "Mhm. I see the way you look at him. Like you're in awe yet terrified." She smiled, a touch of mirth creeping in. "He's really something, to draw both of us in like that."

"Too bad he's a manipulative bastard," Kerry blurted, and was surprised at Alt's answering laugh.

"That he is," she replied almost cheerfully, handing his cigarette back to him.

"I see why Johnny likes you." Kerry watched as a few flakes of ash fell off the end.

"I see why Johnny likes you," Alt returned. A look of solidarity.

The cigarette was ground out.

-

_Johnny shoves him aside during their next gig after a short but heated argument. They haven't been the same since Kerry told him he was leaving Samurai. There's genuine hostility now, something that was never quite there before. Kerry knows then, this isn't something he's willing to repair anymore. He doesn't know if Johnny is pissed because he actually cares, or if he's just angry because he thinks Kerry a coward for not "sticking it to the corpos like he should"._

_He doesn't want to think about it anymore. Johnny had shot into the audience, wildfire blazing in his eyes. It's too much. It's_ **_been_ ** _too much._

_He's just…fuckin' tired. Like everyone else who left, everyone else who will leave._

_Later, Kerry finds out Alt is gone, kidnapped, and Johnny’s finally, officially on a blazing warpath to take Arasaka out._

_The supernova is blindingly bright now, ready to flare out and take everyone around it out to achieve that breathtaking, final burst of light._

_For once, Kerry isn't sure he has enough left in him to stick around and watch. He's gonna take his wings, cobbled together with wax and unstable dreams, and get the fuck out while he still can._

_He says goodbye. Johnny straps guns on and doesn't look back._

* * *

**5.**

Dead.

His presence lingered every day, festering at the back of Kerry's mind. It had been a year, how time flew, but the trails of the legendary Johnny Silverhand remained--etched into the bones of Night City. It didn't register for a month. Two months.

Etched into the bones of Kerry Eurodyne.

He wondered when he'd be able to stop thinking of a dead man's ghost and a dead man's shadow. It stayed, reminding him that if Johnny Silverhand's fate was to disappear in a brilliant flash of light and fade back into the murk, then Kerry Eurodyne was destined to one day do the same.

Except without the flash of light, because Johnny burned brighter than anyone he knew. Certainly himself. So…all Johnny’s lingering shadow served to do was remind him that he couldn't run from one day fading into the background, forever _stuck stuck stuck_ in the shadow that locked its chrome metal fingers around his throat.

The insane part of all this--physically, he was free from Johnny. Couldn't be chained to a dead man. There were nothing but bittersweet memories tied to the last dying embers of their friendship before Johnny decided to quite literally nuke his entire existence. Yet…after all that…

Fuck. He _missed_ him. Woke up terrified, so damn scared he wouldn't be able to do this, to pull off a solo career, to make any kind of real impact without the supernova that was Johnny Silverhand. Like some kind of dependent, weak, whacked moron.

Hating him. Loving him.

Nothing had fucking changed.

Funny, how he could affect him like this, cast shadows even in death.

When Kerry died sometime down the road, he wondered if he would cast the same kind of shadows, or fade into the noise and murk of Night City forever, never to be seen or heard again.

* * *

**+1**

On the rooftop, Kerry decides to pour his heart out to this kid. About the shadows, his past with Johnny, the fucked up love-hate relationship. This young merc, dying and only in his twenties, wearing Johnny’s old jacket (seriously, that was kinda fucked). Still so willing to put up with Kerry's shit and weird feud with some Jpop starlets over a song cover (to be fair, maybe he overreacted, fueled by his abject fear of becoming a shadow again. But also, Kovachek was a dick, turns out). Willing to camp out and blow up a truck of music equipment, grinning and enjoying the flames alongside him, then laughing and listening to Kerry's stories as they drove to evade the NCPD. Still so willing to give over full control to Johnny (fuck, Kerry doesn't know if _he'd_ trust Johnny with that) just so Kerry can get some kind of closure for things he really should've gotten over years ago.

There had been…something about Johnny that had mellowed out, just slightly. Still a manipulative dick as always, and careless in his biting words, but he seemed…different, somehow. While certain ghosts clearly still haunted him, and the fire for vengeance still burned in his eyes (a sharp blue-green now, thanks to V), Johnny seemed like certain parts of his past had been put to rest after they spoke again. The intensity remained, but...more tired, like he's teetering on the edge of fizzling out for good. Kerry feels the same.

He wonders if part of the driving force of him pouring his heart out to V is because of the fact that Johnny is listening.

Surprisingly, it turns out, he just wants V to listen. To understand. V isn't innocent--thrives on chaos and violence in a way that's both terrifyingly familiar and a little strange, but there's a sort of untainted hope in his eyes. Some kind of desperation to live up his dreams that Johnny had died for and Kerry had succumbed for. Something the two of them are probably too jaded to understand now.

Johnny would probably just say Kerry doesn't get it, or doesn't understand. But he does. Only things worse than unfulfilled dreams are dreams that come true. V is chasing his, still so sure that he'll be happier once he gets there. Top of the world. Kerry is terrified Night City will chew up that vigor and spit it back out, nothin' but bones.

And so he explains the shadows, tells V he feels he understands him, despite the feeling at the back of his mind telling him _no, not again, because this is another bright flash of dying light you'll chase and you'll be burnt--_

Kerry knows how Johnny would react. Had reacted. Would tell him to stop saying dumb shit, would tell him to stop being such a pussy. Would tell him he was being fucking ridiculous. Kerry would nod, hating and loving him, staying by his side to make Silverhand shine bigger, brighter--for a chance to be close to that kind of lustre.

V…

_V_ just reaches forward and tilts Kerry's face towards his, hand rough with calluses from fighting but eyes bright. Instead of a supernova, it reminds the Rockerboy of the soft glow of neon lights that he's gotten so used to while playing shows in Night City. Instead of mocking him while kicking his ass into gear, V just smiles (just a touch shy, Jesus, this kid is gonna be the death of him) and promises to keep the shadows away. 

"I'll even save you from yourself," he jokes, and pulls Kerry in. The light from V feels warm instead of burning.

"Is he…" he can't help but ask before their lips meet. It's not so easy to be rid of his shadows, apparently.

V furrows his brow slightly and stops, and Kerry almost wants to laugh. Or cry. He doesn't know how to react to the genuine concern there on the young merc's face. "Does it matter?" 

Kerry can almost hear Johnny's derisive snort in the background. He studies V's worried expression for a moment.

Kerry's apparently always had issues with distinguishing between love and hate. Turns out, that whole cliché about the fine lines or whatever really decided to fuck him over. Love, hate, fear, admiration--all a blend when he spent time with Johnny.

When he looks at V, he doesn't see any shadow. It's like there's clarity, somehow.

And sure, they don't know much about each other, still. But for the first time in a long time though, he wants to try. Suddenly, he's reminded of something his guru told him. It seemed silly at the time, but…

_Life's loops, huh?_

He wonders briefly if V would mind having a song named after him. Inspiration floods him again, bright after years of lying in the dirt.

Kerry smiles and leans in again, the texture of V's scruff against his palm as the cool evening breeze of Night City washes over them.

"No. Not anymore."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, any comments and kudos are much appreciated ^o^ Side note: Kerry's yacht song always makes me cry and I constantly have it on loop LOL


End file.
